


how to get you underneath me

by fliptomybside



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliptomybside/pseuds/fliptomybside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall can't stop thinking about it, and then it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how to get you underneath me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr as a Harry sex headcanon, because that's the kind of thing I spend a lot of time thinking about. Set during WWA, Niall walks in on Harry. Title from Tegan and Sara, unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine, please don't let the real people that this is about see it, etc. etc.

Niall doesn’t mean to walk in on him, is the thing. It’s not like he’s never heard Harry getting himself off before. He’s pretty sure they’ve all heard each other, it’s just something that comes with living in such close quarters for so long. 

It’s really not his fault, he just wants to borrow a charger when he knocks on Harry’s hotel door, and he fucking says come in, and Niall didn’t even spare a second thought as to why Harry was so breathless, and now. Niall’s standing in the doorway of Harry’s room and he can’t seem to make himself look away. He’s shirtless, pants still on but unzipped, like he couldn’t be bothered to take them the rest of the way off, and his hand’s on his dick, and Niall can’t stop looking. 

“’S in my bag,” Harry pants, like he’s not thumbing over the slick tip, and Niall’s transfixed by the tight grip of Harry’s fist, the way the head of his rosy dick disappears, and the faint sheen of sweat on his chest.

“Right,” Niall says, and his pulse is racing and his jeans feel tighter than they did a minute ago. He takes a step towards Harry’s bag, open at the foot of his bed, but Harry moans, and Niall can hear how wet he’s getting, jesus, and he’s frozen, watching Harry’s hips arch up off the bed. Harry looks right at him, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, and grins. He pauses for a second, and the way his dick juts out of his jeans is obscene. He’s impossibly hard, red at the head, and Niall can see the slick in the low light and he swallows but he can’t make himself look away. He’s hard now, hopes Harry doesn’t notice, but it’s Harry’s fault, anyway, for saying he could come over in the middle of a wank, for fuck’s sake. 

“Go ahead, it’s not gonna bite,” Harry smirks, and for a second Niall thinks he’s talking about his cock, because while Harry can focus on other things, Niall apparently can’t. The bag. Charger. Right.

“Yeah, uh. Sorry mate, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Niall says, and ducks down to rifle through Harry’s bag for the offending charger. It only takes a second to find, and the room is so quiet that he thinks Harry must be able to hear is heart beating. He stands up so fast that he feels dizzy, and Harry’s still looking at him, but he’s touching himself again.

“Nah, you’re all right,” Harry pants, twisting his hand in earnest now. His eyes flutter shut and he groans, hand speeding up, and it looks almost painful but a second later, Harry comes all over his fist, hips tilting up off the bed, and Niall’s transfixed and uncomfortably hard in his jeans and this isn’t how he thought this would go.

Harry’s like a puppet whose strings have been cut, slumped back on the bed. He wipes his hand on his stomach starfishes out on the bed. Niall trips on the way out the door, but he doesn’t look back.

-

Niall can’t stop thinking about it, is the thing. Harry’s going around draping himself all over everyone and eating bananas like usual, and all Niall can focus on is his pink mouth and the way Harry squeezed his eyes shut and came all over his fist. It’s a lot to process. He spends an inordinate amount of time looking at Harry’s hands. It’s annoying, because Harry’s a handsy person. When he feels things out, it’s literally. Groping Niall’s dick on stage, tying his shoes for him, hugging him and pressing his face into Niall’s neck and breathing deeply, like he’s trying to memorize Niall’s scent. It’s hard to break away from Harry’s focus, he’s learning, now that all he wants is a room to himself because it seems like he’s hard all the time, jesus, and Harry hanging all over him doesn’t help.

They’re in the lounge on the bus watching some comedy that Grimmy raved about, according to Harry. Niall’s trying to pay attention, he really is, but it’s hard with Harry pinning him to the couch, all long limbs and heavy heat. It would be normal, but post wank-gate, as Niall’s labeled it in his head, he doesn’t know how to act around Harry. Niall’s not sure he’ll be able to make it through the rest of the tour if he can’t even make it through a lad’s night.

He doesn’t know what to do with his arms, so they’re flopped awkwardly at his sides. Harry doesn’t seem to feel anything close to the discomfort Niall’s feeling. His head’s pressed against Niall’s chest and when he laughs, it vibrates all the way through Niall’s body and all he can do is think about that time he walked in on his nan taking a bath to keep himself from getting hard.

He’s not even watching the movie anymore, just staring intently at the ceiling, when Harry lifts himself up on his elbows, and Niall’s faced with the full force of Harry’s stare. He licks his lips and exhales and Niall can’t do anything but stare at his mouth, all pink and shiny and he can feel Harry’s breath on his face, jesus.

“Haz,” he says. The movie is just a faint buzz in the background now, and everything has narrowed down to the rapidly decreasing amount of space between his mouth and Harry’s, and even thoughts of his nan can’t save Niall now.

Harry’s an inch away from him, eyes wide and curious. Niall’s pretty sure that his heart is seconds away from beating out of his chest, and Harry’s just looking at him appraisingly, like the thought of kissing Niall never crossed his mind before this second. He must latch onto the idea pretty quickly though, because Niall doesn’t even have a chance to panic before Harry’s on him, lips hot and insistent and all-consuming, just like Harry himself.

Niall opens his mouth to—to do something, say something, but Harry slides his tongue against his before he gets a chance, and all Niall can do is grip Harry’s shoulders and try to breathe.

Harry’s relentless, slanting their mouths together, and Niall’s hips are twitching up against Harry’s of their own accord and he can’t help groaning into Harry’s mouth. He can feel the blush on his cheeks but Harry just grins against his mouth and grinds down against him, hot and hard and unrelenting and yeah, Niall’s going to come in his pants like he hasn’t done since he was sixteen.

Harry pulls back, their mouths making a wet sound that’s obscene in Niall’s ears, and for a second, he thinks Harry’s going to say something to break the moment, but he just goes for Niall’s neck, teeth nipping at the thin skin. He’s sure to leave a mark, and Lou’ll have his head for it, but Niall just turns his head to give Harry better access and exhales on a moan when he licks over the bruised skin.

Niall’s hips are jerking up to meet Harry’s and their rhythm is sloppy and uncoordinated but he feels so hot that his skin might melt and he can’t stop, can’t stop chasing the sparks starting at the base of his spine. When Harry pulls his mouth from Niall’s neck and groans, pushing down hard with his hips, dick sliding up against Niall’s through their sweats, it’s too much and not enough all at once. Niall can’t stop panting, mumbling what are probably strings of nonsense, and he’ll find time to be embarrassed about it later but Harry’s pressed his forehead against his shoulder and his hips are writhing against Niall’s and the noise he makes, strangled and desperate when he comes is enough to push Niall over the edge. He comes so hard there are spots in his eyes and his pants are disgusting but Harry’s still heavy on top of him, breathing hard against his shoulder and holding him firmly in place, in this moment on the couch, the credits of the movie he hasn’t paid any attention to rolling in the background.

“Should’ve done that years ago,” Harry mumbles, mouth muffled by the worn cotton of Niall’s t-shirt, and Niall laughs, lets the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://whatmaddiesaid.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
